


This is What We Do (We Nightmare You)

by Fallon_SF



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Minor Character Death, Oral Sex, Sci-Fi, beast fighting, no exy, sonnie's edge!au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2020-06-28 11:53:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19811758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallon_SF/pseuds/Fallon_SF
Summary: In a future where illegal beast fights are the most prominent form of urban entertainment and arena owners preside like slum lords, the Monsters are an unknown threat. But Andrew and his team are fighting for more than just money and fame.Meanwhile, the son of one of the most ruthless arena owners is hoping to fight for his own place in the world. As he tries to drag himself out from under his father's thumb, he finds a home among an unlikely group of people.aka, a sci-fi au based off of Sonnie's Edge from the Netflix series Love, Death + Robots.





	1. Nathaniel

**Author's Note:**

> violence and sex content will follow along the standards set by the netflix episode/aftg books. I will try to provide tw at the end of each chapter, but please be aware of and monitor your own consumption.

Nathaniel listened intently for the sound of the front door closing from inside his dark bedroom. “Bedroom” was probably a generous moniker for the tile and metal nine-by-nine that resembled a workshop with a mattress more than an actual living space - but it was Nathaniel’s. Though if all went well tonight, it wouldn’t be for much longer.

The clutter of the room had done well to disguise the fact that he’d packed up all of his necessary belongings into a single bag and hidden it in the rubbish bin a few hours earlier. His father and his men would be distracted with the fight tonight – something about an upstart contender and creating a show. The people, it seemed, couldn’t get enough of the team they called “Monsters.”

Nathaniel had heard vaguely about the rookie pilot from nowhere that had been sweeping fights – had yet to lose. When he heard that his father was hosting a fight for the Monsters, he knew it would be his best chance at escape. And if it didn’t work out, well… he had no plan to ever return to this room.

Outside, there was a slam and then several clicks – the sound of the front door locking. It was the signal Nathaniel had been waiting for.

He pulled an old sweatshirt out from under his mattress, a patchwork of three different garments and imbedded with just enough technology to cloak him from his father’s extensive security system. Getting past the mechanism on his door was easy, and most of the guards left behind were focused on the pre-match coverage. After his last few escape attempts went sour, he focused on perfecting his skills and route for this night.

Lola, Patrick and Romero would be with his father – which meant Jackson was the only real threat in the house tonight. The cocky bastard had already started in on one of the maids by the sounds coming from the open kitchen door. Nathaniel flicked him off behind his back as he passed and hoped that one of these days the poor girls would get fed up and just bite his dick off altogether. Then again, Nathaniel thought, they’d probably just have someone like him rebuild it.

Slipping into the crowd of people headed to the stadium provided Nathaniel with far more cover. He was careful not to let his guard down, however. He’d made it this far before. Getting into the stadium was significantly easier than getting out of it. The place would be teeming with his father’s men as well as media coverage from around the city and – with how big of a match this was supposed to be, maybe even the whole country.

He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt lower over his face and the sleeves over his arms. Scars were nothing new, but if anyone caught sight of the red raven inked across his skin, he’d be done for. Making a mistake now would end his run permanently.

The trek down to the underground stadium took a lot of backtracking. By the time he made it into the outer court, the match had already began. Nathaniel could feel the shouts of the crowd and the rumble through the floor as the beasties collided. But he wasn’t here for the fight. Instead of mingling with the fight-goers that streamed to and from the inner court, He scanned the lock on a stairwell access door and slipped down to the lower level.

Down here the crowd was muffled but he could still hear the beasts themselves and the voice of the announcer. It seemed his father hadn’t provided a fair fight to the Monsters. Nathaniel wished he could be surprised. He’d worked with Gorilla Hawking for the better part of year, however. In fact, he’d been tasked with making most of the modifications to the man’s beastie that would ensure he won any fight he entered into. If beastie fighting had any actual regulations, Hawking’s fighter would have broken all of them. The Monster had his work cut out for him.

In the long run, though, he couldn’t say it particularly mattered. The only outcome Nathaniel’s plan depended on was the Monster’s team packing up their equipment and leaving. There were plenty of other conditions Nathaniel was willing to compromise if it meant a ticket out of the Butcher’s playground. Knowing his father, however, even that one non-negotiable made his plan riskier than it should be.

The Monster’s team was small enough that Nathaniel only heard signs of two people scuffling around below the arena – and they weren’t being particularly vigilant either. Slipping past them into the cargo space was the easiest thing he’d done all night. From there, it was just a matter of finding a suitable hiding place and waiting for the match to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a short allusion to jackson plank receiving dubiously consensual oral sex in the paragraph that starts "Lola, Patrick and Romero..."


	2. Andrew

_“What would you say if I asked you to lose tonight? I’ll make it worth your while.”_

_“You’re going down, down, down…”_

_“Oh! Hammerambe just delivered a devastating blow! Killgamesh may not be able to come back from this one!”_

Andrew squeezed his eyes shut as they lowered his beastie back into the bacta tank. To most, it would seem like just a slightly longer blink – at the rate his mind was going, the moment felt like an eternity. When he opened them again, his living reflection was looking at him with something far too close to concern for Andrew’s liking.

“Good?”

Aaron asked, despite the murderous expression Andrew could feel gracing his features. Nicky liked to blame it on just coming out of a fight, but it was the expression Andrew wore most frequently - when he wore an expression at all.

He brushed past his twin and headed for the lounge. He needed some food and a drink.

“That was pure bullshit!”

Andrew’s expression slipped into nothingness by the time Nicky’s ranting and pacing came into view.

“No beastie has that kind of bone protrusion naturally, and even if it was an enhancement, it should have been listed on his stats.”

His cousin was right, but that didn’t mean Andrew would indulge him in wasting more energy complaining about it. He bypassed the taller man for the fridge. Nicky looked at him for a moment in a vain hope that Andrew would engage in conversation with him before throwing his hands up in the air and turning to the room’s other inhabitant.

“Kevin, back me up!”

“It should be illegal.” The man with red-raven tattoos agreed without looking up from his holoscreen. But before Nicky could so much as crow in triumph, Kevin continued. “But technically, the entire sport of beastie fighting is illegal and only regulated by house rules. You can complain until you die and I don’t think it would matter to Wesninski.”

Nicky flinched at the name, his nose wrinkling in disgust.

“Ugh, what a creep. I can’t believe he and that bimbo tried to get us to forfeit.”

Andrew took a pull from his beer. It was shitty, but they were trying to stock lower proof drinks in an effort to wean Kevin from his long time alcoholism, so he didn’t comment.

“I mean, if he already had that trick up his sleeve – which, the pun was unintentional, sorry – then why did he even bother asking that? Is it just such a fucking power trip to be able to buy people out or…”

Andrew decided about halfway through the rant that he didn’t want to waste more braincells listening to the rest of it. There was a carton of ice cream in the fridge waiting for him, so he grabbed that and a spoon and headed further back to Killgamesh’s cargo bay.

Aaron had forgone socializing in the kitchen altogether and was observing and cataloguing the beastie’s health and injuries when Andrew joined him in the bay. The blonde looked up briefly, his eyes rolling at the sight of the ice cream and beer, but said nothing. After his check was done, Aaron handed off the holoscreen with his notes to Andrew.

“There’s a lot of damage, but it’ll heal.”

“It always does.”

Andrew grunted in response, dismissing his twin. Aaron got that annoyingly concerned look again, but thankfully said nothing more. Andrew finished another bite of ice cream before looking at the notes. He had all of ten minutes peace before the tread of a dress-shoe on metal caught his attention. He snapped his head up to catch the man faltering in the doorway. With his startled, half-sure expression, it took Andrew a moment to place the man.

“Romero.”

When Nathan Wesninski came down to personally insult the Monsters with his offer of money for losing the fight, he’d brought three others with him. Wesninski, the woman who had tried her best to seduce an agreement out of him, and the brick wall of a man all had firearms. The third, who had to be jostled into leaving by his maniac sibling, couldn’t have hid a weapon on his person if he’d wanted to.

Andrew had half a mind to ask if they’d sewn that suit with him in it. The other half had been too busy imagining ways to get him out of it. None of the methods ended well for the silvery material.

“Does your master know you’re here? Or did he send you perhaps? We’re not particularly happy with that match, despite the outcome.”

Romero moved finally, fingers twitching against the hanging plastic dividers. His eyes dropped to Andrew’s mouth unconsciously before flicking back up to meet his gaze.

“He doesn’t know.” He glanced over his shoulder, flinching at a louder sound from the lounge. When Andrew only reacted with a tilt of his head, the thinner man stepped fully inside the bay. “Lola is trying to placate him. He’s never happy to lose but this…”

Andrew could read between the lines, forfeit or not, he was never supposed to win that fight.

“It will be a while.” Romero continued after a moment.

“And what, you wanted to take your own chance at warning me off? Telling me just how bad of a man your boss is? How I should be scared of him?”

Andrew watched as the other man looked at the ground beneath his shoes, clearly debating. Romero had to clear his throat for his next words to be more than a whisper.

“Mostly I’d like to not think about him at all.”

The blonde felt an eyebrow twitch up at that. He thought he might have seen something when he’d practically eye-fucked the man earlier, but that was basically an admission and permission all at once.

Andrew set his things aside and slid off the counter to saunter closer to the man. He was taller than the pilot by at least eight inches, but Andrew was used to the difference. He reached a hand up to catch the man’s chin, dragging it up until Romero’s eyes lifted from the floor to match his.

“Yes or no?”

A rush of breath, then; “yes.”

There was a certain rush to kissing that Andrew enjoyed. He’d seen people pour their emotions into it, joy after a win, affection for a child or spouse, hate for someone you couldn’t stand any other way. He couldn’t do the same, but to him it always felt like the start of a fight – anything could happen.

Eventually though, he needed more.

“Don’t touch my shoulders or lower,”

He commanded, punctuating it with a nip at the other man’s lip. Then he allowed his hands to do what his imagination had wanted all night. True to his prediction, the suit, while pretty, didn’t stand much of a chance. Andrew took a moment to admire the skin beneath it, however. Then he began a path down the man’s chest, pushing him up against the wall for leverage once he moved past Romero’s navel.

The thinner man bucked his hips at even a tease of Andrew’s mouth on his cock, his hands scratching lightly at Andrew’s skull. Then he was biting back a moan as Andrew took him all the way down, swallowing as far as he could in the first take. Grinning would have ruined the moment, but Andrew always enjoyed the surprise. Of the few people who expected him to suck dick at all, even fewer knew that he was proficient enough to take the entire thing right off the bat.

From there it was a simple matter to bring the man to completion. Andrew almost wondered, as the cum gathered on his tongue how long it had been since he’d even been allowed to touch himself. As the man’s cock softened, Andrew let it slip from his mouth, ready to send him off before he could offer to repay the favor.

Before he could even so much as spit the cum out of his mouth, however, the fingers on his head tightened and for a moment everything went black.

“Really it’s a shame.”

Romero was talking, but something was off. His tone had shifted completely, more like the bitch from earlier – confident, _dangerous._ Stranger than that, however, was that it sounded like it was coming through water – fuzzy and distorted.

“You really are far too good at sucking cock. No wonder your foster brother wanted you all to himself.”

Foster brother – _Drake,_ he was talking about Drake. Dammit, Andrew knew he should have paid attention to whatever sob story Nicky had been telling people. This hit too close to home to be accidental.

He tried to tell Romero to fuck off. The words came out gargled and he was suddenly aware that where before he’d felt practically nothing at all, now pain surged through him. He opened his eyes to three separate realizations.

The first was that the pain he was feeling was in no way connected to what Romero was doing. This was connected to the second awareness, which was the sight of himself, dangling several inches from the floor from where bionic spines protruding from Romero’s fingers impaled themselves through his skull. For a moment he fixated on the sight and had to tear his thoughts away from the stupid way his feet twitched when Romero flexed said fingers.

The third realization was arguably the most important. Even from within the bacta tank, he could hear now what he couldn’t before – extra heartbeats.

Romero had not come alone.

Andrew felt instantly stupid and angry that he’d fallen for what was now clearly a ploy. He thought about calling Nicky or Aaron in to take care of things, but then Wesninski’s whore stepped through the plastic and into the bay. Neither glanced in his direction, too busy looking with disturbed glee at the plaything Romero had made of his pilot.

Switching plans was easy.

By some miracle, Romero’s talons hadn’t severed the neural link, allowing him to continue talking through what should have been a corpse. It was enough of a distraction to keep them from noticing the slow drain of the bacta tank. Andrew didn’t need it to empty completely, just far enough that the med droids detached and allowed him free movement. Climbing out of the tank was hell on his injuries, but the pair was too busy smashing his skull to pieces to notice the sound of dripping water and claws on metal.

“What the fuck is this?”

Romero sounded disgusted, though clearly it was with the fact that Andrew was still taking rather than the gore he continued poking through with his shoe.

“Just a couple of bioware processors spliced to a spine.”

Andrew had been skeptical when Kevin had outfitted the room with speakers connected to his bioware – and he’d never admit it to the former pilot’s face, but he found he quite liked the effect it had now.

“You little fuck - ”

Andrew tsked and tilted his head, waiting for the human’s eye to finally land on the bringer of their demise. He allowed them each a moment to take in the sight of him perched on top of his tank before his tails separated and shot out, impaling them each through the head.

He thought about explaining the folly of their plan. That he’d never really been the human. That Nicky’s ever-changing story was a decoy meant to prevent people from looking closer. That his _edge_ had nothing to do with his trauma – that he truly was the Monster. But they wouldn’t leave the room alive anyway and he hated wasting his words.

He watched detachedly as they each flopped to the floor with only minimal tail shaking. Nicky would probably bitch about the clean-up for weeks. Aaron would undoubtedly be pissy about having to rebuild his twin, _again._ Most annoyingly, he’d never hear the end of it from Kevin about terrible of an idea it was to kill the Butcher’s people while still under his roof. But first, he had one more thing to deal with…

The rabbit heartbeat slid into the room, relaxing for just a moment and then freezing up completely.

Andrew said nothing as the boy took in the scene in front of him. It would be easy work to take care of him as well, but the fact that he was hardly a threat meant that there was no _real_ reason for him to join the bodies on the floor. Strangely, however, as the kid scanned the room, his heartbeat didn’t jump around in fear like it had when he’d entered at the sight of the corpses on the floor, nor when he finally locked his eyes on Andrew’s beastly form.

Even odder than that, it slowed down.

“Oh.” The boy said finally, voice more gravel than anything. He stopped surveying the beast in front of him and looked Andrew in the eye. “I guess you’re the Monster, then.”

He said it like conversing with beasties was a normal thing to do. Not the patronizing, demonizing or prideful tone that most others took – like they were speaking to a pet or a favorite weapon. No, this boy said it like he fully expected Andrew to understand.

It made him want to laugh.

If only the boy knew.

Still, he kept the urge in check. His laugh wasn’t a pretty thing even when it came from a human mouth, and the boy was interesting enough to keep around a little longer. Besides, if Andrew scared him off now, then the others would have to scramble to get them out of here before word got out that he’d killed the Malcoms.

Despite not saying a word of this, the boy seemed to follow a similar train of thought and looked back down at the sibling corpses.

“You killed them?” Andrew tilted his head, intrigued despite himself at the lack of emotion. The boy, thankfully, didn’t notice, too busy staring at the Malcoms. “Good fucking riddance.”

Andrew snorted, jarring the boy into seemingly remembering _what_ exactly he was sharing space with. His stance and his expression turned instantly wary, his eyes flitting around the room like he was cataloguing it for exits. Exiting was the last thing Andrew wanted him to do right now – not until they could make a clean break from the place.

Quicker than the boy could even attempt to move, Andrew shot forward, pinning him to the wall. For such a scrawny human, he made a valiant attempt at struggling free. But even injured as he was, Andrew had no problem holding him in place.

The collision and rabid fight for freedom also had the effect of producing enough noise to finally alert the rest of the Monsters that something wasn’t quite right in the cargo bay.

Aaron and Nicky were the first on the scene, both stopping short just inside the plastic curtain. Nicky’s eyes flitted around the room and his expression shifted with it. He’d be utterly useless. Aaron, thankfully, had a more level head.

“Who the fuck are you, and what are you doing in our bay?”

“Nothing!”

The boy shot back, which, while technically true was nowhere near convincing. “Tell your beast to let me go.”

“Were you trying to steal something? Sabotage our team?”

Aaron pressed. Andrew didn’t miss how his brow furrowed at the way the kid referred to Andrew as _his_ – nor the way his gaze drifted over to where Andrew’s human face lay smashed to bits before snapping back to his beastly one.

“I don’t want anything to do with your damn team, let me go!”

“Oh my god!” Nicky chimed in, finally having found his voice. “Are those the Butcher’s people?”

Aaron followed his shaking finger to catalogue the other two corpses, still recognizable despite the holes in their forehead.

“Mind explaining that?” Aaron gestured to them, lifting an eyebrow at the boy. “No one just happens to be in a beast’s cargo bay surrounded by corpses, so either start talking or you’ll join them.”

Amidst his fury at being cornered, the boy had the gall to lift his chin and stare Aaron down. In fact, Andrew realized, he’d been ignoring the beast since the moment his brother and Aaron entered the bay.

“If I was a threat, or had anything to do with that, don’t you think he would have killed me already?”

Both brothers blinked at that. Andrew took note once again at the phrasing. The boy had demanded Aaron _tell_ him to let go, not _make_ him – and now he referred to Andrew as “he” rather than “it.” Aaron, however, was probably pausing because he hadn’t thought of that. Andrew’s brand of violence had never really made sense to him, and he didn’t expect it to now either.

“He makes a good point.”

Nicky acquiesced, apparently over his earlier shock enough to provide useless observations. Andrew waited to see what Aaron decided. Clearly the boy thought that Aaron was him – the pilot. So that meant, at face value, that he was the one in charge here – assuming they used the typical neural link. The blonde glared at their little trapped rabbit.

“If we let you go, how do we know you won’t make trouble?”

The rabbit glared back, and when he turned to look back at the corpses on the floor, Andrew caught the florescence of a familiar red tattoo. _Interesting._

“No one but the Butcher will miss them.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

The boy returned the deadpan reminder with a mulish expression. For a moment, the only thing to be heard was the sound of the bacta tank still draining into the reserve.

“I need a ride out of here.” He caved finally, looking and sounding entirely put-out by it. “The Butcher thinks he owns me because of my father and I’m tired of it. I was going to hide in with your beast through the checkpoint.”

Nicky made a considering sound like he was impressed by both the stones of the kid and the ingenuity of the plan. He always was easily impressed.

Aaron? Not so much.

“So you planned on committing suicide?”

“It was a calculated risk.” The kid countered. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be in here. But I’m guessing you won and that didn’t sit well with the Butcher.”

“Clearly.” Aaron snorted. “What makes you think we’ll take you with us now? It’d be a lot easier to just kill you and feed you to Killgamesh like the others.”

The kid, unlike Nicky, looked like he’d expected the counter.

“I can fix your bioware synth,”

“What?”

Andrew really needed Nicky to shut up, or at least pretend that he knew anything about the sport he chaperoned. It was one thing to look dumb in front of Kevin, who thought _everyone_ was dumb - or the twins, who were his family. But in front of a kid? Pathetic.

The kid seemed to think so too. He ignored Nicky and looked between Aaron and the destroyed form of Andrew’s human vessel.

“Finding and growing the parts to replace that is going to be expensive, especially if the Butcher puts a price on your head. I know how to manufacture them. It’s more time intensive, but I can do it under the radar. As long as you take me with you, you won’t have to pay me for the integration.”

Aaron looked like he was torn between accepting the help – he really hated having to rebuild Andrew and they all knew it – and being pissed that this kid thought he could do a better job.

Andrew was intrigued though. He flicked his tail to cut off any retort or argument from his twin and then dumped the kid unceremoniously on the floor before heading for his tank. Aaron would take it for the agreement and dismissal he meant it to be.

Now that the interesting things were over, he wanted to sleep.

“Fine, you can stay.” Aaron told the kid. “We’re down a team member anyway. But that means you’re the team bitch. You can start by helping Nicky clean this mess up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: General violence, a lot of derogatory talk, both sexual and otherwise, there's oral sex that both parties consent to, but one party is not completely honest with their intentions and violence immediately follows, reference to child rape, Minor-character death.
> 
> From here on out the story will progress on it's own, but using the general world-building from Sonnie's Edge and some content that was discussed in the show but not here will be addressed later.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Neil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil gets outta dodge and continues to have staring contests with creatures genetically engineered to kill him.

“What’s your name anyway, kid?”

“I’m nineteen.”

Nathaniel rebuked. He’d been with “Nicky” for all of three minutes and already found himself annoyed by the incessant chatter. It wasn’t that he doubted Nicky was nice or whatever, he just never seemed to shut up. He was literally digging through the remains of their former biosynth teammate while Nicky mopped up the blood left behind by the Malcoms. They’d just finished dumping their bodies into the processing tank for Kilgamesh’s food supply and the man was trying to play twenty-questions.

“That’s cool.” Nicky’s curls bobbed slightly as he nodded. “But I’m gonna keep calling you ‘the kid’ until you share your name. Here, I’ll start.”

He leaned the mop up against his shoulder and extended his hand out toward Nathaniel jovially.

“Nicholas Esteban Hemmick, but you can call me Nicky.”

Nathaniel looked at the hand and then back up at Nicky’s unwavering smile.

“Neil Josten.”

He said without standing or accepting the hand. The name was a snap judgment, one of three false identities he’d forged in preparation for his escape. He had been hoping to last a few weeks before giving anyone any information on him, but if he was going to stay with the team, he knew he had to at least pretend to be a real person, and real people had names.

“Neil? Alright, I like it.”

Nicky nodded to himself, like his opinion had any bearing on what Nat-  _ Neil _ , was named. He withdrew his hand, not the least bit upset that Neil hadn’t shaken it – his hand was covered in gore anyway where Nicky’s was still fairly clean.

Neil would have preferred if the rest of their time working was done in silence but Nicky seemed intent on ruining that dream. He didn’t really talk about anything important. Neil mostly tried to tune out his ramblings, but he had to admit that the idiot was giving away a lot of information for free. And while it might not seem important now, he could at least get a decent sense of the type of team he would be working with.

The strange calm ended abruptly with the arrival of another person.

“Are you two still not finished? Thanks to Andrew’s fuck up we’ve only got a short window to get out of here.”

Nicky’s sigh and immediate move to try and placate the man standing just inside the plastic dividers told Neil that this was another member on their team, someone he could at least tangentially trust. Neil’s instincts, however, were too busy freaking the fuck out to let his brain rationalize. Because this wasn’t just some random beastie squad member.

This was  _ Kevin Day _ .

Kevin had once been slotted as one of the best beastie pilots in the world – second only to his adoptive brother Riko Moriyama. Kevin’s mother and Riko’s uncle Tetsuji had essentially created the sport and brought it into the spotlight it now held – illegality notwithstanding. He and Riko had held court, undefeated at Evermore until tragedy struck and Kevin nearly died in an accident. While he survived, he was unable to continue piloting beasties and lost a lot of fine motor control in his left arm. After that, he disappeared.

None of that was news to Neil. He’d been shocked and horrified when he heard about it on the radio he’d rigged out of spare parts, but it had nothing to do with his current impending panic attack. The real problem was that Kevin’s skin flashed with the same red tattoo of a raven that Neil was currently hiding under layers of cloth and blood. 

Riko had been number one. Kevin had been number two.

Nathaniel was supposed to be number three.

The last time Neil stood in the same room as Kevin Day, they’d been called from simulation practice to watch his father meticulously dismember a man. That night, his mother had grabbed him from his dorm and taken them on the run for six years until the Butcher’s men caught up with them in Seattle. His mother caught a bullet to the stomach and Nathaniel was labelled dead right alongside her. The four years since then, he’d been confined to his father’s residence in Baltimore, creating tech and modifying beasties to dominate in the Butcher’s arena.

As far as Kevin knew, Nathaniel Wesninski was dead. And if that changed and he blabbed to the wrong people, then Neil was as good as.

Thankfully, the man seemed content to argue with Nicky and ignore Neil’s mental breakdown.

“Seriously, Hemmick, stop telling the kid your life’s story. Get this place in order so we can make it through the checkpoint. You can wax poetic about your German when we aren’t in enemy territory.”

“Don’t see you offering to scrub brain matter.” Nicky grumbled.

Kevin ignored him and turned to Neil instead. Neil counted to ten in every language he knew and tried to look like he was focusing on the bioware in front of him. Unfortunately, the former pilot seemed intent on talking to him.

“Aaron said you could put Andrew back together.”

It wasn’t a question, but Neil answered all the same.

“A lot of it is still salvageable.”

Kevin glanced down at the mess by their feet. Before he could turn his gaze back to Neil’s face, Neil stuck his hand out in greeting.

“Neil.”

He said, banking on Kevin’s arrogance and distaste for messes to keep his attention on the gore coating his hand rather than any identifying features he might be able to pick up from his face. Nicky would have laughed at it kind-heartedly and ignored the awkwardness of the gesture in favor of getting to know Neil. Kevin would associate the repulsive sight with something not worth his time.

“I don’t particularly care unless you can actually do what you’re claiming.” He responded, true to form. 

Despite the fact that it was the type of response he’d wanted, Neil had to remind himself not to be overtly offended. He did allow a huff of displeasure out, though.

“Whatever.” He muttered as Kevin turned away to pack up the rest of their things. They’d be leaving as soon as the bay looked presentable.

Only after they were on their way out and he was hiding inside the back of the truck with Kilgamesh and a face scarf for cover did Neil think to wonder at why Kevin seemed so attached to his bionic team member.

The Ravens were a team – dysfunctional as all get out, but still very effective at their jobs. One of the dysfunctions was their forced proximity. Even as children training in the sport, Neil remembered the emphasis that was put on staying together with Riko, Kevin and eventually Jean. The punishments for going astray were so severe that they didn’t even chance a bathroom break on their own...well, the  _ others _ didn’t. This could have explained Kevin’s attachment to the bionic man, but Neil didn’t find it likely. Raven pairs were ideal, but as long as he was with a member of the team, Kevin should’ve been fine.

It was puzzling enough to distract Neil from the otherwise all-encompassing panic of exiting his father’s territory. There was some shouting between the members in the front of the truck and the Butcher’s guards. Neil strained to hear the specifics, waiting with dread to hear his name mentioned, his father’s voice. The Monsters played their parts well, though, puffing up and throwing back insults and complaints about the fight, demanding their money.

The doors to the cargo bay opened and Neil jolted, accidentally activating the light on Kilgamesh’s tank. To both his surprise and the guard’s, the beastie was awake. It stared down the man who’d come to inspect the bay with unnerving malice. As a product, the guard did little more than sweep his flashlight, LED and not UV, around the space and then slam the door shut again with a curse. His words were ricocheted back at him by the Monsters in the front, but thankfully they were allowed to pass.

Neil slumped in his seat, counting to ten with each breath in a different language.

When he opened his eyes again, it was to the sight of the beastie’s gaze now locked on him. It could have been a trick of the light, just a poor angle of refraction from the cylindrical tank, but he doubted it. Neil tested the theory, moving down the bench further to a point where the beastie would have to adjust to keep looking at him. The gaze moved with him. Strangely, it felt like the least worrisome part of his day.

“You put up quite the fight tonight.” He said quietly, taking the chance to look the beastie over. “I’m surprised you have the energy to keep yourself awake at all without a link.”

It wasn’t unheard of, but Neil had done enough work with beasties to know that their owners preferred when they weren’t awake outside of the arenas. Even if the monster hadn’t been awake, Neil realized he probably would have started talking to it one way or another. Nicky told him the drive to their home city usually took six to seven hours depending on who was driving. Talking to beasties was already a habit of his when there was no one around to listen. So even though this one was looking back at him, the familiarity of it kept Neil calm.

“I’m glad you won, though.” He pulled up the spec screen on Kilgamesh’s tank just to pass the time. “The arm modification was completely out of line. I thought about fucking it up just to screw Hawking over, but I guess I didn’t need to, did I?”

The beastie continued to look at him for a moment before deeming him uninteresting and turning back to its original position. The thing closed its eyes, but Neil noticed it’s heart rate didn’t slow down to a speed indicative of sleep until they were almost back to the Monster’s hometown.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Vulpes Incorporated!

For the second time in as many days, Neil contemplated whether staying with the Monsters wasn’t just another way to commit suicide. 

When Nicky had been explaining their base of operations to him, he’d provided pretty much every detail imaginable except for the part where it was owned and operated by Vulpes Inc. Now that he thought of it, the arrangement made a fair amount of sense, but Neil still felt blindsided when the back of the truck opened up to reveal a pristine cargo bay doused in white and orange. 

Aaron had been the one to open the door up while Nicky fiddled around in the front and Kevin talked to someone outside. Neil stepped out, his movements stiff from sitting for so long. As he jumped down to the ground, the conversation in front of him stopped and he immediately wished he’d kept the face scarf on.

The man Kevin had been talking to looked him over. His gaze wasn’t particularly unfriendly, but it was searching all the same and made Neil infinitely aware of how vulnerable he was. It also didn’t help that despite the obvious differences in haircut, dress, expression and the flame tattoos crawling up his forearms, the man was the same age and build as Neil’s father. 

Nicky came around from the front of the truck and the older man’s expression changed as he looked from Nicky, Aaron and Kevin to the empty back of the truck. It dropped into something distinctly angry and Neil instinctively took a step back.

“Minyard, what the fuck?”

Aaron afforded the angry man a second of his attention, then stepped around Neil to start unloading gear. His relative ease should have helped Neil relax, but he remained wary as Nicky attempted to field the question instead.

“Don’t look at me Coach, this one actually isn’t our fault.”

“I’ll look at you as much as I please Hemmick, especially since the gremlin I’m usually looking at has been replaced by a kid half his weight soaking wet.”

“No, Coach listen -!” 

Thankfully Nicky’s explanation was stunted by Aaron climbing back out of the truck with more gear than someone his size ought to be able to carry.

“Wesninski rigged the fight.” He cut in, not stopping on his journey to the unload point. “And didn’t take well to the fact that we won anyway.”

The older man pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath in before then gesturing at Neil. He did his best not to shrink back under the scrutiny.

“Okay, that still doesn’t explain the kid.”

Fear and a reminder that attitude didn’t usually make people welcoming prevented Neil from pointing out that he was an adult, thanks.

“He says he can rebuild Andrew.” Kevin explained, sounding slightly more invested than Aaron had - but still less enthusiastic than the “From scratch!” Nicky tagged on after.

The taller man then tried to wrap an arm around Neil’s shoulder like they were pals. Neil ducked under the attempted contact, but otherwise held his ground. 

“That true kid?” The “coach” now looked thoughtful and Neil gave him a resolute nod.

“I’ve spent the last five years engineering beasties.”

The man’s eyebrows rose at that and he looked Neil over again. Neil stood under the weight of his gaze, but barely suppressed a flinch when the older man stepped forward and extended his hand.

“David Wymack.” He introduced himself, making no comment on Neil’s skittish behavior. Neil steeled himself then took his own step forward to shake his hand firmly once then let go.

“Neil.”

The “coach” looked at him skeptically for a moment then seemed to decide it wasn’t worth the trouble of voicing his doubts.

“You got a last name, kid?”

“Josten.” Neil said irritably. “And I’m nineteen.”

“Got it.” This time there was a bit of humor in the older man’s voice. While Neil wasn’t a fan of being laughed at, he’d take it over being scrutinized any day and held his tongue until Wymack continued.

“Well I guess I’ve got to go make sure you have a place to stay.” He said with a sigh. “I’d give you Andrew’s room, but I’d like for us to all remain alive and un-maimed when you’ve got him awake again.”

“He’s a biosynth,” Neil cut in without thinking. “He’s always awake.”

He immediately cursed himself for the display of attitude. While he didn’t think it’d be met by any of the violence that had characterized his youth, Neil Josten was supposed to be quiet and unassuming. He needed them to be able to forget about him once he left. And people rarely forgot assholes.

Wymack stared at him for a moment before his eyebrows and shoulders lifted simultaneously. “Huh, I guess you  _ do _ know your stuff.” He said offhandedly, looking over Neil’s head before turning around to go do...whatever, in order to find a place to put Neil.

Neil turned to follow his line of sight and was met by Kevin’s unnerving stare. He bit his tongue in an effort not to return it in force. They’d trained together as kids, which hopefully put enough time between them for Kevin to have forgotten Nathaniel. He’d grown a bit, colored his hair and had colored contacts on, but if he started acting like Nathaniel now, then it could still jog Kevin’s memory. Neil was safe for now, but that was only because no one knew who he was. The moment it seemed like Kevin might recognize him, he’d be out and on the run - Monsters or not.

“What?” He said, trying to seem a different kind of irritable and on-edge than anything Kevin could associate with his old teammate. 

Kevin said nothing, but grabbed Neil’s beat-up duffle from the back of the truck and took off down a different hallway than Wymack had gone. Given that all of his possessions, including a holoscreen loaded with enough encrypted cash to send him around the world twice over, were stuffed into that bag, Neil had no choice but to follow.

“I can carry my own shit.” He reminded the man, sounding more like a petulant child than he would have preferred. Though it earned him a disdainful look from the former pilot, it also had the intended effect of Kevin relinquishing the duffle to his care.

“Then carry it.” He said like he hadn’t been the one to pick the bag up in the first place. “But don’t waste my time.”

He continued walking and Neil had to jog slightly after affixing the strap of his bag across his chest to keep up. “Where are we going?” He asked. “I thought I was supposed to be your grunt.”

Kevin looked down at him like he was an idiot - another expression more familiar than Neil would like to admit. 

“You’re here to rebuild Andrew. That takes precedence over everything. Nicky and Aaron can handle unloading the truck just fine.”

Neil was about to ask what they were doing, then, when Kevin stopped them in front of a high-security door. After years of orchestrating his escape, it was second nature to watch Kevin activate the biometric lock. 

“We’ll get you into the system later, but for now, you’ll need one of us to get in or out.” Kevin explained, striding purposefully into the room.

“This is the bioware lab.” He said, turning to face Neil once he’d also stepped inside. “Kilgamesh’s bay takes up the back third of the room. The middle has all of our processing tanks and equipment and the front benches are for the tech-building.”

He paused, letting Neil’s gaze wander and take in each of the stations and their equipment. As far as labs went, it was pretty decent, if heavily modified.

“There’s a more standard lab space in common quarters, but you’ll have to share that with the other teams.” Kevin said, as if reading Neil’s thoughts. “The Upperclassmen are generally trustworthy, but most of the general technicians will take anything that’s not bolted down.”

“So don’t leave anything out there. Got it.” Neil said with a nod. 

He remembered reading something about Vulpes’ unorthodox hiring policies. They tended to give jobs to a lot of people who wouldn’t be able to find reputable work. Not that beastie labs were reputable, per say, but a lot of them actually worked in conjunction with above-board research and medical facilities. Still, Vulpes was regarded as the bleeding heart of the community, both in that it seemed to care about giving second chances - and in that they often bled for doing so.

Kevin nodded, but before he could say anything else on the matter, the panels along the back wall opened up to reveal a cargo sized door. Aaron walked backwards with the control pad for Kilgamesh’s tank, directing the hover pad it sat on until they were fully in the room and it lowered to nest perfectly in the floor.

Nicky, who had followed the tank in and then closed the door behind him again, spoke up as they began connecting the transporter tubes and wires to the permanent structures in the room.

“Team lunch today, at one! I guess Coach wants everyone to meet the newbie.” He said jovially, eventually stepping out over and under wires to join them in the main part of the room.

Aaron snorted. “Right,  _ Coach _ ordered the meeting.”

Nicky shrugged. “Can you blame them? We don’t typically give out the warmest of greetings.”

Neil looked between the three of them. Both Aaron and Kevin’s expressions stood somewhere between deadpan and resting bitch face. Nicky had a point, but he hated that it would lead to him having to interact with and be known to more people.

“Family lunch?” He questioned. 

Nicky grinned and smiled. Neil had to duck under the arm he tried to throw around his shoulder, but that didn’t stop the taller man from explaining happily. “Yeah man, it’s a good time. We’ve got this big table and everyone sits and talks and all that. Team bonding at its finest!”

Aaron snorted again. “Yeah, if normal teams bond by trying to beat the shit out of each other.”

Nicky scratched the back of his neck. “Well yeah, our team is probably a bit more fractured than most...but we mean well.”

“ _ You _ mean well.” Aaron corrected before, oddly enough, glancing over at Kilgamesh’s tank.

“And so does Dan!” Nicky tried to refute. Anything further was cut off by an angry hand motion from Kevin. When he was sure he had Nicky and Neil’s attention again, he spoke.

“It doesn’t matter. You said lunch was at one?” Kevin waited for Nicky’s confirming nod before looking directly at Neil.

“Good, that means you have six hours to show me what you can do.”

Nicky squawked and then sighed. “Fucking hell Kevin, you aren’t even going to let the guy have a chance at some breakfast?”

Kevin glared at his taller team member and, without looking, pulled two protein bars out of his back pocket, waving them slightly to show he’d already thought of that. Neil held in a sigh and resigned himself to what he knew would be an unappetizing mix of supposedly healthy foods covered in stale chocolate.

“What are we working on?” He asked, hoping to focus on the project rather than any sort of socializing. It was bad enough he was having to work with Kevin right off the bat. If he had to talk to the others too then he might actually contemplate suicide.

Thankfully, the others quickly lost interest and he was left to combat Kevin’s rigorous standards on his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, home, sweet home!
> 
> We'll see if Neil can survive his first day with the Foxes without blowing a gasket - or Kevin's head.
> 
> Next up: family lunch!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family lunch!

By lunch time, Neil felt more likely to commit murder than attempt suicide. 

They hadn’t even started working on reconstructing the team’s precious fourth member, and Kevin was already driving him up the wall. After his fall from grace, Neil would have thought that maybe Kevin would have relaxed a little. But it seemed his perfectionist tendencies had only ratcheted up even higher and he had all of them aimed at Neil. 

Pilots didn’t often know the ins and outs of the genetic engineering that made their sport possible, but Kevin - both as a Raven and son of the woman who developed beastie fighting, had made it a goal to absorb every detail. His theory was nearly flawless. His  _ practice _ was...aggravating - especially so for Neil, who had spent two years with the Ravens and then four years in his own personal hell of a genetic engineering workshop. Working for the Butcher meant that rules and theories were discarded in the name of results. And when his life was tied to those results...well, he wasn’t surprised Kevin was appalled by his workmanship.

That didn’t mean he wanted to hear him constantly belittle it, though.

“Lunch.” Aaron stuck his head in the room to remind them, interrupting yet another tirade from Kevin.

Neil took it as his cue to make this a good stopping point. Kevin inhaled to resume his criticism, but Neil was faster, speaking as he finished tying off a muscle fibre weave. 

“You asked me for a replicated flexor.” He said, standing up from the bench and giving Kevin as bland of a look as he could muster. “If you wanted it done a certain way, then it’s not my fault you didn’t specify that from the start. Let me know if you find something wrong with the finished muscle, but I’m going to eat.”

Aaron gave him a look of begrudging amusement when he came to join him in the hall and then silently led the way out.

Lunch, it turned out, was a rowdy affair in a large communal kitchen. The Upperclassmen Foxes were surprisingly normal - especially to be sharing proximity with the Monsters. 

“Dan hated to think that they were your first impression of us all.” A tall black man said after introducing himself as Matt Boyd. 

His name sounded vaguely familiar, so Neil assumed he was a pilot. Truthfully, he was more interested in the clusters of needle marks that pock-marked both of his inner-elbows. They were a clear sign of heavy drug use, which was surprising for a pilot but not the scene in general. 

When he noticed the attention, Matt had been glad to explain his troubled past - the reason he “qualified” to be a Fox. The drugs were a thing of the past, he assured Neil. In fact, most of the Upperclassmen seemed to be trying to move on with their lives rather than let their various pasts define them. They achieved this with varying degrees of success, but still. Neil could see why they’d described themselves as a “family” rather than just a team. It wasn’t completely cohesive or efficient, but they interacted the way he imagined a normal family might.

Case in point, they managed to make it halfway through the meal before getting into any arguments larger than typical lunch drama. And of course, it was Kevin who started it. Neil wouldn’t deny he felt a sense of satisfaction at the fact that other people found Kevin’s lack of tact aggravating, too. It was amusing to watch him and Seth argue about piloting techniques.

Until, of course, he made the mistake of snorting at something Seth said and leaning over closer to Dan to ask if this was a common occurrence. Both men turned their ire on him, faces flushed from yelling at each other. 

“Oh, and what do  _ you _ know about piloting?” Seth questioned, even though Neil’s amusement had been in his favor.

A fair amount, actually, but  _ Neil Josten _ didn’t grow up in the Nest, so he stuffed chicken salad into his mouth and shrugged unapologetically. He’d let the others extrapolate whatever they wanted from it.

Seth’s reaction was rather undignified and he rolled his eyes and mimed Kevin’s mouth moving with his hand while the former Raven instructed him on the “proper” technique. It would have been nice if that had been the end of it, but unfortunately, Kevin took Seth’s “Whatever,” as a sign that he needed to look for another target of his perfectionism. And Neil apparently made the perfect target.

“I also find it interesting that a slum kid who can’t even properly replicate muscle fiber thinks he can completely rebuild our synth.”

The room went quiet and Neil could practically feel everyone waiting to see how he held up against Kevin. 

He shrugged and continued eating. “Because I can.”

“It was Andrew’s decision.” Nicky added, clearly a reminder. Neil wasn’t sure if he’d forgotten his own cousin’s name or if he actually meant to refer to the currently missing member of their team, but he filed the thought away for later. 

“I seem to remember you weren’t there for the decision at all, in fact.” He tacked on, regardless of his original plan to try and keep his attitude in check.

Kevin nearly stood in an effort to lean across the table and get in Neil’s face. It was almost refreshing to see that he still reacted poorly to not being in control. “Yes, because if I  _ had _ been, you’d still be back in that god-forsaken arena.”

Neil snorted. “God-forsaken” implied that god had ever been there in the first place. Besides, he knew better. If he hadn’t come with the Monsters, then it was unlikely he’d still be living at all. Nonetheless, he leaned forward and met Kevin’s eyes directly for the first time.

“I’m happy to leave now, if that’s what you want. But you’re wrong. Integrating muscle fibers the traditional way is inefficient. Weaving them as they grow takes a third of the amount of time and is easier to repair later on.”

Kevin’s eyes narrowed and his mouth opened and shut a few times as his anger prevented him from coming up with any coherent replies. Neil leaned back in his seat and picked up his sandwich again.

“You don’t believe me?” He asked unnecessarily. “Find the footage from last night’s fight and look at Hammerabe’s work-up.”

“Wait, you helped build Hammerabe?” Nicky jumped in, clearly excited 

“Helped” was an understatement, but Neil nodded and let Nicky steer the conversation to the more theatrical aspects of their world. Around them, the rest of the Foxes relaxed and eventually, even Kevin calmed down enough to talk with Dan about one of the other big matches of the week. Neil, for his part, used the rest of the time mostly to sit there and soak up the conversations around him. Even if he wasn’t going to be with the Foxes for more than a few months, it was good to get an idea of their personalities and gauge how likely they each were to try and butt into his business.

The rest of the day was mostly more of the same. Dan and Matt gave him a full tour of the place, including the common areas and the Upperclassmen workspaces. Dan apologized again for the fact that out of all of them, his first interactions were with the Monsters.

“They’re not that bad. Just interesting.” He said with a shrug.

Matt laughed awkwardly. “Interesting’ is about the tamest description of them. You must not have met Andrew, then.”

There was that name again. “The synth, right?” 

Matt nodded in confirmation and so Neil shook his head and explained.

“He was a wreck before I got there. I heard the Butcher’s people talking to someone, but once I came into the bay, I was a bit too preoccupied with the beastie pinning me against the wall to see if he was still coherent.”

Dan and Matt shared a look before Dan turned back to face him. “Neil look, the Monsters are...different when Andrew’s around. In a way, I’m glad you get to see them now. But just know that things will change once he’s up and moving again.”

Neil didn’t really see her point. What did it matter how this Andrew acted when he wouldn’t be sticking around to see it anyway? As much as living and working with the Foxes and their beasties felt like a dream, it was too close to the nightmare he was running from to be permanent. Even just agreeing to stay with them while he pieced their synth back together again was taking a huge risk. He’d hold up his end of the bargain and then he’d be gone.

Now wasn’t the best time to break that to the others, though, so he shrugged. “Uh, thanks.”

Neither of them seemed impressed by his response, but thankfully they accepted it and went back to the tour, ending with Neil’s new sleeping quarters. 

“It’s not anything fancy.” Matt said, holding the door to the small room open for him. “I’m actually pretty sure it was a storage closet or an office or something. But it stays warm at night and there’s a skylight, so that’s pretty cool.”

He continued on, showing the cot and dresser Wymack had dragged in as well as explaining where the closest bathroom was and how to get there. Neil was more concerned with the skylight, though. Or, more precisely, he needed to know if it could be used as an escape route in a pinch.

“Does it open?” He asked, trying to sound curious and wrinkling his nose like there was a lingering smell that bothered him. 

“Oh, yeah, man! We should probably let the place air out for a bit anyway.” 

Matt took pity on him and pulled out the crank lever to slowly squeak it open. Neil would have to tamper with it in his free time to truly make it a viable exit, but at least now he knew there was a second way out.

“Anyway,” Matt said once that was done. “This is all yours, you can leave your bag in here if you want. Currently, there’s only a hardware lock, but Coach said this was the only key and he’ll get biometrics installed if you want.”

Neil accepted the metal key, his fist closing around it as he shook his head. “No, this is fine.” Any lock could be picked, sure, but in a place like this, a hacker was more common than someone familiar with pins and tumblers. Besides, he planned on adding his own security measures anyway. 

Matt nodded and joined Dan in the doorway. “Well, we’ll leave you to get settled. If you need anything, there’s a comms pager just down the hall.”

Neil waved a half-hearted goodbye as they exited, closing the door gently behind them. He stared at the key in palm for a moment before locking and unlocking the door again, just to relish the fact that he could. Then, it was just him, his bag and this small, dusty room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neil has finally met the rest of the Foxes!
> 
> Hopefully this is the last shorter chapter of exposition before things get moving.
> 
> As always, feel free to scream at me in the comments. Or you can find me on tumblr @itsstickball and scream at me there.  
> Whatever floats your boat.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil does a little pot-stirring.

Working with the Monsters is somehow easier and more difficult than Neil expected. On the one hand - Kevin aside - they trusted him to get the job done. There was no one hovering over his shoulder or reminding him of the consequences he would face if he programmed or replicated something incorrectly. On the other hand, they wouldn’t fucking leave him alone. 

Aaron and Kevin, at least, had reasons for being in the lab, working on their various projects and checking on the beastie’s progress. In fact, Aaron was even vaguely helpful. He provided Neil with the schematics he’d kept on Andrew’s body and wiring and answered any questions he had succinctly. In another world, Neil thought he might make a brilliant medical researcher or doctor. If he’d cared, he might have even asked Aaron why he was involved in the underground world of beastie fights instead of pursuing a legitimate job. 

As it stood, he accepted whatever information Aaron gave him and then they resumed ignoring each other from across the room.

And Kevin was, well _Kevin._

Nicky, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have a conceivable reason to be in the lab except for that he was bored. He hovered, trying to ask about what Neil was doing, or carry on a distracting conversation. Or worse, he’d just sit in one of the extra swivel chairs and spin while talking to the room at large. 

Then there was Andrew. 

The first time Neil heard him speak, he nearly shit himself. He didn’t say much, just a few jabs at Aaron - but it was enough to make the blonde storm out of the lab. Neil had originally thought the tech was just talking to himself and so he made no real note of it until the talking continued after Aaron had left the room. It was one of the few times he was glad Nicky made a habit of popping into the lab.

“Oh, you’re awake!” He said, looking somewhere over by Kilgamesh’s tank. The disembodied voice that Neil had originally thought to be Aaron talking to himself made no reply, but Nicky pointed out its origins to Neil without pause.

“It was Kevin’s idea, actually. To install speakers just in case something happened that he couldn’t talk or his synth malfunctioned. That’s probably what you heard back in Baltimore.”

Neil eyed the built in sound system with undisguised judgement.

“That happen often?” His mind immediately recalling the pulp that remained of Andrew’s face.

Nicky winced at the implication, rubbing the back of his neck before leaning closer. “Look, Andrew probably wouldn’t want me telling you this, but -.”

Neil held up a hand, suddenly more angry than amused. “Then don’t.” Nicky opened his mouth to say something else, but Neil wasn’t finished. “If it’s that important, he can tell me himself. He’s clearly able to do so.” 

Neil gestured to the sound system and Nicky sighed. 

“Alright, but don’t say I didn’t try to warn you.”

Neil waved the older man off. He didn’t need a warning about a disembodied voice. Happy or angry, the worst it could do was yell at him until Neil got his body up and running again. And when that happened, he’d be leaving anyway. 

Thankfully, Nicky seemed willing to let the subject drop and move on to rambling about some blonde man he’d met a few times top-side.

Andrew didn’t make himself known again until after Nicky had left for dinner with the promise that Neil would be right behind him. Aaron hadn’t returned to the lab the entire rest of the day, so when he spoke this time, Neil knew where to look.

“So the liar has a moral code after all.” The voice said, echoing like he was thinking deeply on the words. There was a sardonic lilt to them though, that made Neil’s hackles raise.

“Everyone has a moral code.” He shot back. “Some people’s just sucks.”

“You admit to being a liar, then, Little Rabbit.” 

Neil leveled an unimpressed look at the speakers. “I’ve seen your specs, you don’t really have any room to call someone ‘little.’”

The voice hummed, but didn’t press, letting Neil get away with his neat deflection. 

Dinner was quieter, with only a handful of the Foxes present and no explicit order to socialize. Neil had only been with them for a week, so it was disconcerting to realize that most of his trepidation about talking with Andrew had to do with what it might mean for his future here. 

He had no future here. He reminded himself, crunching down viciously on the apple he’d pilfered from Kevin’s fruit stash. He was here to do a job and lay low until it was safe to move on. Nothing a psychotic disembodied synth thought he knew about him would change that.

The majority of Andrew’s skeleton was blessedly intact, leaving only the skull and softer tissues to need replacing. They’d even managed to save several of his organs. Neil had no doubt that a civilian would take one look at the current state of their lab and deign it the home of a mad scientist. But that was because civilians rarely wanted to think about where all of their medical advancements came from. They were content with seeing “no animal testing” on the labels of their goods. None of them stopped to wonder what those products were tested on instead. 

Legally, beasties weren’t living creatures. They weren’t made to feel things or have experiences and develop behaviors. They sat in a medical tank growing or resting until their pilots took over their nervous system and made them move. Allegedly, they couldn’t even perceive pain.

Electrical pulses meant to exercise and bulk up muscle fibres shouldn’t register in the center of their brain mass. Most engineers thought that just because they didn’t give a beastie a contextual processing center like the human thalamus and  dorsal posterior insula  that it couldn’t develop one on its own. They didn’t even bother to look for it, to watch - after all, what use was a brain to a war machine?

Neil knew better though. You couldn’t build a nerve and then expect it not to feel. 

He’d started talking to beasties as a coping mechanism. He couldn’t bitch at or complain to his human counterparts, so he let his frustrations out quietly to the things he was working on. Eventually, it just became a habit - like some sort of reverse Stockholm Syndrome. 

He also saw the brainwaves, the heartbeats.

He liked to pull up their vitals sometimes as he worked and talked, and Kilgamesh was no different. Even though Neil wasn’t actually working on the beastie, the return of a routine -  _ his _ routine felt nice. He didn’t particularly care what the others had to say, but it helped to be able to bounce ideas around - get them out of his head. Unlike Kevin, the beastie wouldn’t immediately try to tear them to pieces, or judge them like Aaron. He wouldn’t offer platitudes or distractions like Nicky. He was just there to listen and reflect.

That was how he noticed the anomaly. Compared to the other beasties Neil had worked with, Kilgamesh had significantly more acute responses to stimuli. Neil could actually tell when it was sluggish, but still awake - as opposed to the near brain-death of the deep sleep most beasties in stasis experienced. He’d once programmed the processing centers of a beastie to notice and read chemo-signals - a bid to be able to predict its opponents moves - but this was different.

Even when his voice was level or his emotions unchanged, there were times when Kilgamesh’s readings changed anyway. It was like he was actually listening and responding to the words. Of course, there was no telling what the responses actually  _ meant _ . He just saw them as electrical impulses on a read-out chart. But it was intriguing all the same. 

Then there was the matter of the Monsters’ self isolation. As far as Neil could tell, they weren’t making any plans or talking to contacts about more fights. He tried to casually bring it up to Nicky that the Upperclassmen had found a few fights to enter their beasties into, but the man just laughed and diverted the conversation. He was admittedly good at steering the topic where he wanted, but if he thought Neil didn’t notice, then he was sorely mistaken.

Similarly, even though Kevin and Aaron spend almost as much time in the lab as he does, not once did he overhear them discuss tactics. No one pulled Kilgamesh out to work through motions or new moves, and the only attention the beastie got was to check its vitals and make sure there hadn’t been any muscle degradation.

Neil waits until he’s alone with the Monsters in the lab to bring it up.

“So how exactly, are you planning on winning more fights without a pilot?” He said it out of the blue, loud enough to clearly be heard by all three of them. As expected, the question drew a variety of reactions - all surprised and none of them wearing it well.

Nicky opened and closed his mouth several times, but was unable to come up with anything resembling a coherent response. Kevin looked paler than usual, though his face was set in what was clearly going to be a denial. The way his gaze slid over to Kilgamesh’s tank for a split second was admission enough, though.

It was Aaron who actually fielded the question.

“What makes you think we don’t have a pilot?” He countered, jaw tense.

Neil lifted his eyebrows in response then gestured between him and Kevin. “You spend most of your time working on things that aren’t related to your beastie. Plus you and Kevin ignore each other. I have yet to hear a single conversation about piloting between the two of you. You’re not the pilot.”

“Why would I talk to Kevin about piloting?” Aaron countered. It would have been a fair question, if Kevin wasn’t legitimately  _ famous _ for being a know-it-all former pilot.

“I know I lived under a rock, but even street rats know what this means” Neil tapped his cheek where Kevin had the number two inked in black. Their matching raven tattoos only showed up under UV lights, but Kevin’s face tattoo was unmistakable in any setting. “And even if the TV footage was all a lie, I’ve spent the last week trying to get him off of my back. I find it hard to believe he wouldn’t be constantly up your pilot’s ass.”

If anything, Kevin paled further. Nicky finally managed to let out some sort of choked-off squawk, but Aaron took the defeat with surprising aplomb. His eyes narrowed and he leaned back in his chair.

“Well done!” The reply rang out, and Neil might have thought it to be Aaron if he wasn’t staring at the blonde already. 

“The Rabbit’s got us figured out so well already.” Andrew mocked. “I guess the only question now, is what are you going to do with this information? Run away? Sell it for safe passage to the other end of the world?”

Neil slid his attention to the speakers in the corner, blinking abruptly. In all of his piecing together of the puzzle, not once had he thought of using it as leverage elsewhere. It was something he would have done in the blink of an eye two weeks prior and it hadn’t even occurred to him. The startling realization of just how comfortable he’d gotten here was disconcerting. He’d have to deal with it later, though.

“Mostly, I just want to know how you’re going to manage the fallout from the Butcher.” He said cooly, not entirely a lie. “If you think hiding in your hole until he forgets is going to work, you’re sorely mistaken.”

“Know a lot about that, do you?” Andrew asked, annoyingly perceptive.

Neil ignored him. “If you go to ground and he kills you, no one will notice enough to care. But if you keep fighting and winning, he won’t be able to touch you outside of the ring without drawing attention.”

Aaron made a face of begrudging concession, and Neil turned to see Kevin’s face twisted into a scowl. They knew he was right. 

“Okay, but Neil, you said so yourself, we don’t have a pilot, so how are we going to keep fighting?” Nicky said, interjecting timidly like he was being purposefully delicate.

“I can -.”

“The pilot isn’t the problem.” Andrew cut Kevin off. 

Neil knew the strangled look on his face well enough for it to confirm what he’d suspected. Dan had said the Monsters were different without Andrew. It was because he was their leader, the one who guided their decisions. The whole time Neil had been with them, they were just waiting, directionless.

“The problem,”Andrew continued, “Is convincing everyone else that it’s not a problem.”

Neil wasn’t sure he followed, but then he saw the fierce scowl on Aaron’s face and understanding washed over him.

“You’re twins, aren’t you?”

“Another point to the Rabbit!” 

If Neil didn’t know any better, he thought Andrew might have been grinning somewhere.

“So what? Aaron goes out there and pretends to be you? How does that work when it comes time to fight?”

“Kilgamesh needs a brain, and I need a body, right? Surely an accomplished junkie tech like yourself can do the math.”

Neil glared at Andrew’s speakers.

“Why haven’t you done it already, then?” He saw on the news Matt and Seth liked to play that there had been matches both weekends he’d been with them, and Kilgamesh had healed quickly enough to fight in at least one of them.

“While I’m pretending to be Andrew, someone needs to pretend to be me.”Aaron answered, sounding resigned to a fiasco he clearly hated. 

Neil’s eyebrows knit together, but Kevin was already explaining before he could ask. “I don’t do public appearances - not in a ring, not since the accident.”

Nicky held his hands up when Neil swiveled to look at him. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but I’m mostly the personnel side of things. I wouldn’t be able to fake the tech stuff well enough. Besides, I’m too tall to be Aaron.”

“Of course.” Neil deadpanned. 

He closed his eyes, feeling a headache coming on now that the pieces were fitting together. If they wanted to get out and do more fights before Andrew got his body back, there was only one way to do it. Unfortunately, if the Monsters weren’t safe, then neither was he. He’d given himself a false sense of security by running with them, but that would hold up like paper to a bullet if his father was hunting them too. That didn’t mean he liked this idea.

“So, Rabbit,” Andrew chimed in again, cajoling. “What are your feelings on painting a target on your back?”

He’d meant it as a jab, a poke at Neil’s clear tendency to run away from his problems. The difference this time was that Neil knew, sooner or later, running wouldn’t be enough. He had no contacts in this city, was in a facility that his father had probably already paid people to spy on, and worst of all, he’d come to like it here.

So rather than shrug and think about his usual exit strategies, he glanced over at Kilgamesh’s tank and kept his voice level. 

“Familiar.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's this? some actual plot??  
> Hopefully from here on out, the chapters will have a bit more substance for y'all!
> 
> This might also be a good time to note that anything that sounds vaguely sciencey/medical is probably just to the left of actually being correct, as this is a sci-fi fever dream and i have no knowledge of these topics beyond high-school graduation requirements and whatever I can glean from a quick internet search before I lose myself in a wikipedia spiral. So you know...take all that with a grain of salt.
> 
> ^ 3^/


End file.
